


For What Reasons

by LornaMae



Series: For What Reason [1]
Category: Block B, DEAN (Korean Musician), Winner (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 02:10:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LornaMae/pseuds/LornaMae
Summary: Jiho was an excellent judge of character, you recalled that's how you fell in love with him on the first place. But it did not stop the warmth of your relationship to cool down, as you were starting to settle your glance on another man. For awhile, you forgot what he's excellent at.





	1. For What Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, again I am not expecting anybody to read this. But if you do, please tell me what you think! Love it, hate it -- all comments are welcomed!
> 
> This fic was inspired by Death Cab for Cutie's song titled 'For What Reason'.

 

 

              “One of these days you’ll know he’d do anything,” Mino slid the front door open, stepping out of the shabby hotel room you had booked for the two of you, “He’d do anything to catch you red-handed.”

              You know it was due to be like this, but you had thought that if you cried and begged he would spare you from the reality and start telling you that everything will be okay. And that he is going to protect you at all cost. But no, he was very realistic about the two of you.

              Mino gave one last glance into the room, before landing his cold stare at you, “Change your clothes. The smell. He’d know it was me.”

              As he closed the door, you felt the world fell all over you. And emptiness ensued.

 

***

 

              The door was already unlocked, and a faint noise was heard from outside of the penthouse that Jiho and you own. He must have arrived earlier.

The penthouse was bought by the money that you and Jiho had saved throughout the years the two of you had been together. Right after his solo album received positive reception and his fame went skyrocketing, he was the first one to make the brazen move, to ask you to move in with him. You started dating him not too long after he broke-up with that camille pop girl, Kim Seolhyun, so you were skeptical at first. You went on weeks learning that all of his friends had advised him against you, and so had your friends. Saying that he’d just break your heart and would take you as an easy rebound girl.

You went on, nonetheless. You insisted to pay half of the mortgage, it bruised his pride at first, but you assured him. “This would be _our_ house, afterall,” you said to him that night, and after that everything just went swiftly by itself. Your friends had abandoned you over their disagreement with your relationship. Your family and Jiho’s family never made their way into blessing the two of you. Conservatives of both side, premarital domestic partnerhood was beyond the pure Korean traditions. But you persisted, anyway. Three years later, here you are, trying to manage your heartbeat before stepping into your own house.

“I’m home.” You shouted as you stepped in, removing your shoes on the tiny stool Jiho crafted during earlier days of your relationship. For a couple of odd months he was really into craftmanship, a new hobby he had developed during his Autumn “brocation” at the countryside with Jaehyo. He’d gone home grinning from ear to ear, presenting you the stool as his masterpiece.

It felt like a million years ago. The warmth had seeped away from the two of you, and what remained was a cold home.

“I’m home.” You said again, this time louder as you walked inside, trying to make sure that Jiho heard you the second time. A mutter was heard from his working room, “Yeah.” So you peeped inside and saw he’s staring religiously at his iMac and on to the music producing application. He wasn’t alone as always. The man sitting next to him stood up hastily, bowed a little, “Good evening, Noona.”

You waved your hands to the empty air, signaling him to get comfortable already, “How are you, Hyuk-ssi? Been a long time, yeah?”

“Yes. It’s nice to meet you again.”

“Likewise. Making new music again?” You smiled lightly, this time throwing your glance at Jiho who did not pay you even a single acknowledgment since you came in.

Kwon Hyuk, better known as Dean, seemed to understand the atmosphere that Jiho put up. He stuttered a little, before nodding with a faint “Yes”, and stood awkwardly waiting for Jiho to greet you.

“So.. How’s work?” Dean tried to make a conversation, “You work in the beauty industry, right?”

Your eyes were still latched on to Jiho’s back that refused to pay you a single look. Unyielding, you answered, not looking at the kid, “Yes.”

It was painful for Dean as he acknowledged the tension that was getting exponential: You refusing to leave and Jiho refusing to give what you want _._ The silence ensued for a couple of seconds until Jiho sighed. He finally stood up from his chair and shambled towards you. He folded a smile and placed his cold fingers on your cheeks, “How are you, _Noona_?”

You squinted your eyes. Appalled by what he said. Not because you refused to churn the reality that you are five years older than him, but because that was how his scumbag friends used to always make fun of you behind your back.

You lifted his hands off of your face. Throwing a side glance at Dean who hurried looking away back at the computers screen, and then you whispered at Jiho, “What do you want?”

“Where have you been, eh?” He didn’t bother to lower his voice as to spare Dean’s agony into listening to what both of you were talking about. Bitterness was thick.

“I told you, it’s work. I had to stay at Seocho.”

“It’s only 45 minutes away from here, right?” Now Jiho was taunting you, smirking as if everything was in light mood, “Hyukie-ya, have you been to Seocho?”

Dean was silent. You were silent. Only Jiho playing the foul mood.

“I need to rest.” You finally backed away before he pulled your hands in again. And with tight grip on your wrist, his nails dug on to your skin he said, “Don’t dress for bed just yet. Put up a nice outfit.” You threw him a questioning stare, afraid of what he might say next.

“My friend is coming. Hyukie and I thought we could use additional rapper in this song.”

“Oh, okay.” You said carefully, trying to slip your hands away from his fastened grip. “Ya, come on, aren’t you curious who will it be?” But he was adamant to keep you in place. His smirk was beginning to turn into a jeer. A face of Jiho you never dared to stare back at, because you knew whichever name he was going to say would only give you harm.

“Jiho, I’m tired.”

“Come on, one guess!” Now he shouted jokingly, but you’d throw a goddamn bet that he wasn’t in any way joking. You tried to shake off your hands away, but it only made him pulled you closer roughly, “Guess.” It was an order. Your face was too close to him that you can smell a thick flair of alcohol from underneath his breathe.

“Uhm,” you stutter as he stared at you relentlessly. In a sheer hell of panic you tried to come up with a name while faking a smile, “Jessi. You think she’s cool and—”

He burst a laughter which turned flat a second after, “No. Hyukie-ya, who’s coming shortly?”

You could sense that Dean hesitated for awhile, trying to decipher Jiho’s action. In that very moment you had wished you weren’t staring at Jiho’s eyes.

“Oh, Mino is coming.”

Because there was never a stare piercing through you as cold as Jiho’s stare once that name was said.


	2. Mad Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiho had it all together. He was a brilliant musician with a promising career path ahead. He never knew his downfall would be caused by his own bestfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I dunno, I just enjoyed writing this fic so much. Oddly, this chapter was inspired by Arctic Monkeys' song Mad Sounds.

 

              “Would you like to take a walk?” He said that summer night. That idea came out of nowhere, and you couldn’t help not to feel giddy seeing such a bright gin plastered all over Jiho’s face.

              “Wait, are you sure?” Because you weren’t. You fixed your posture and sat straight while he bounced from the couch, now staring down at you. It was clear there was no hesitation from his end, it was you that needed sometimes to make up your mind.

              “It’s murky outside.” The weather has been suffocating the whole day, humid and warm. For awhile, you thought weather excuse would add some senses to your hesitation. But Jiho was persistent, he strode to the kitchen and took off the thermometer from the fridge, “Look, it’s not so bad. Anyway, the aircon’s making your skin so dry.”

              He has always been observant, and for once in your life, you felt cared for. You stopped seeking for validation, because he took so much interest in you. Some weeks after the two of you started dating, you told your bestfriend, _I think I’m in love but I don’t know why_. You remember thinking that you began to understand _why_ that night. Jiho has made you feel less alone in this cruel world, and beyond happiness – you felt content.

              “Where do you wanna go?”

              “Let’s take a walk in Hangang.”

              You were thrown aback, “Hangang? Jiho-ya, There are going to be lots of people. And,” You looked around trying to find your composure, “and you’re still promoting your new album.”

              Silent suddenly fell between the two of you, you could see a faint paint of disappointment on Jiho’s face, and in a stale effort to make your worry more understandable you stuttered, “Jiho, they—they wouldn’t like you dating—some, someone like me.”

              “Fuck them.” His statement was rough but you were sure that he meant it.

              You still remember that feeling. Having the end of your sentence hung coarsely on your throat, while worry ate you alive. The two of you have only been dating for five months by that Summer night, eight months after Jiho split up with Kim Seolhyun to be exact. Nobody thought it was a good idea, but the way he welcomed you slithering into his warm embrace each and every end of the night was enough for you to play deaf on everybody’s sneer and jeer. Your friends joked, calling you his “toy noona”, saying that he might sing the song “Toy” for you, only he became the puppeteer and you were the dumbfounded ragdoll.

              You remember one night having to come to his apartment past midnight, crying uncontrollably because the paranoia of someone catching the two of you together worried the shit out of you. And in the most gentle strokes he brought you to a deep slumber on his chest.

              You loved him. And that was enough.

              But you weren’t so sure of what others would make of that.

              “I am sure of you, and that all matters to me.” Jiho said, stroking the first tears that fell on your cheek that night.

              The following morning, Dispatch released a photo evident of Block B’s Zico kissing a non-celebrity girlfriend.

*******

_Bang!_

“Ya! Open the door.”

_Bang!_

“Why you locked this..” _Bang!  Bang! Bang!_ “Shit!”

_Bang!_

You could feel your palms sweating and your knees shaking. The walk from the edge of your bed to the doorknob felt like a lengthened distance away. You were scared and trembling, any words you might say may lead to your breakdown. You bit your lip trying to find your composure, but your breath was hanging loosely.

“Jiho..” you’re trying to build strength on your words from behind the closed door, “..honey? Wait a minute. I am still dressing up.”

He broke a laughter, but you were certain that it was a mocking instead, “ _Honey_ ,” you could feel him sneering even without looking at him on the the other side of the locked door, “I want to see you dressing up.”

“What are you gonna wear?”

“Perhaps that low-cut black dress I bought you?”

“They look great in it you know?” Jiho was slurring words, you knew he was drunk, but he had always been a responsible drinker. You felt angry, and you felt ashamed, wishing you could repent. But to whom? And so you harbored your anger to Dean, for letting Jiho drank that much. Once again you tried to be denial of the fact that your own doing was what brought the two of you into this state.

“Ya, Noona,” he slurred out again, “they look good in it you know?”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Jiho. You’re drunk.”

“You don’t understand what I mean, huh?”

“No. Please sober up or I’ll—”

“Your tits! They look grrrrrrrreat in that dress.”

In an instance you broke down crying in silent, shutting your mouth with your palms, and not long after desperately shrieking for help, “Dean! Get him away from the door, please!” You couldn’t help it and your cry broke even louder without warning. On the other end of the door Jiho was still yelling out nuisance, with Dean shouting at him¸”What the fuck, man? Straighten yourself out!”

It was a mess. You could hear Jiho got dragged away from the room, but he resisted. Curse words were flying around, until you heard a rough sound of someone getting hit, and the person fell on the dining table. Utensils fell apart, clanking here and there.

When you opened the door, you could see Jiho laying helplessly on the ground, and Dean standing over him with his hair falling all over his face, “Sorry, Noona. I’m so sorry.” He was full of regret, it was clear in-between his gasping for breath.

You looked all over the broken glasses and flipped chairs and nodded weakly, still trying to stop your sobs, “It’s okay. You can go now.”

“Noona, no I can’t,” Dean replied, lending a hand at stumbling Jiho and put him on the nearest couch, “not while I cannot guarantee your safety with him.”

“Dean, please go—"

Out of the blue, you could hear the front door creaking open as somebody coming in. You were afraid that it was the police, called by the neighbors, but when you saw who it was, your eyes met his glance and you could feel your heart sunk, “What the fuck is happening here?” His coarse voice broke the silence. You could sense thick anger in Mino’s voice, an unashamed drive within you hoped that he would check on you first, making sure that you were okay, but instead he went up to Jiho first, patting his face but he refused to come to his sense.

So he slapped him, “Hyung, what the fuck?”

Jiho’s drowsy conscience opened up a bit, and in what was a clearly jeering voice, he answered, “You happened. That’s what the fuck’s happening.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

             

             


	3. The Meeting Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiho’s drowsy conscience opened up a bit, and in what was a clearly jeering voice, he answered, “You happened. That’s what the fuck’s happening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> Thank you very much! I really appreciate you reading is. The truth is when I posted this here on the first place, I did not expect anybody to read it let alone enjoy it. But then there you are. Thank you!
> 
> I'm sorry that it took awhile for me to finish the third chapter. My family had just gone through a family member passing away, it's been hard for us, but we're moving forward.
> 
> Hopefully you'll enjoy this one. As you know, my fic does not have a linear timeline, as it goes back and forth. So please take the scene backward in timeline as the You character reminiscing. Love it or hate it, please drop off some comments!
> 
> PS: I listened to all kinds of song writing this, the major ones being The Meeting Place by The Last Shadow Puppets, Liability by Lorde and Close Your Eyes by The All-American Rejects.

_Jiho’s drowsy conscience opened up a bit, and in what was a clearly jeering voice, he answered, “You happened. That’s what the fuck’s happening.”_

_***_

Mino scoffed, a wry jeer was plastered on his expression. He in his white washed-out t-shirt, now circling the room as if mocking Jiho’s sorry state.

He with his black fitted cap on, picking up the flipped dining chair, and in an elaborated act of taunting, dragged the chair, basking in the shrieking sound of the dragged chair against the wooden floor.

He put the chair in front of the couch where Jiho was fighting on being conscious. Then he sat, and now both of _your_ men are eye-level with each other.

Dean was standing in the corner motionless, his eyes wandered around. The poor kid, being in the wrong time and at the wrong situation.

But out of all, you feel sorry the most for yourself. There was a tint of guilt drawing half of your energy into a bolt of negativity within you. That bolt makes you want to repent, kneeling with your best act of remorse in front of Jiho and begged the shit out of him to take you back.

But even with that, most of you still claim yourself as a victim.

 _I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t for you Jiho,_ and after that thought came crossing your head. You knew you were just _sick_ to the core.

“Ya, Hyung,” Mino said, darting his stare at Jiho, “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh,” Mino scoffed at him, “just like what you said when you drop me off of Block B, right?”

They were both silent for few seconds, but everyone in the room knew that something else was escalating. Dean took a heavy breath, carefully saying amidst the thickening air, “Mino-ya, back off.”

“You listen to him, kid.”

“Am I a kid to you now, huh, Hyung? Didn’t we train together? Didn’t we start together? Wasn’t I as good as you?” There was an apparent bitterness in Mino’s rough voice, and you hated yourself for acknowledging this feeling, but there was a stint of disappointment in you as you began to comprehend that between Mino and Jiho, it wasn’t all about you. It never was about you. You were just a catalyst.

Jiho laughed. A sinister laughter that sounded more like someone else you had feared of instead of the familiar warmth in Jiho’s voice. Then he said, “Isn’t being YG’s bitch good enough for you?”

In a split second you knew disaster was approaching as Mino replied, “Not as good as fucking your girlfriend raw.”

“No!—” You shrieked, when first swing of fist hit Mino’s face. Dean was quick to jump between them, but in an uncontrollable fury, Jiho pushed Dean away, throwing him to the TV set that crumbled against his weight. You screamed as you tried to step in, but Mino pushed you away from Jiho’s path charging on to him, and the next thing you saw was Jiho lifting the chair and throwing it straight to Mino’s face.

The collision was so rough, it made the chair broke into pieces. But the thing you saw right in front of your eyes choked you. Your heart sunk as you saw gutter of blood streaming down Mino’s face. Not a single rational thought came across your head, all you thought was running to Mino to save him, but in all of a sudden, a yank on your hair, so rough and so hard pulled you away from Mino.

“Bitch—”

“Jiho, no, no please—”

“Bitch, how dare you—” Those bloodshot eyes. That murderous stare. Those cold fingers gripping your face. That violent breath just inch away from your face.

You could never forget the fear that filled every part of your body.

“—I _loved_ you.”

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Sorry.”

You couldn’t breathe, and all turned black.

 

***

  
              The first drop of snow landed without warning on top of your head that night. The night was strangely serene, and it was quiet all through the town. There was a group of _ahjummas_ speeding their way home, complaining the drop of snow that was starting to wet their coat as they melted away. All the while kids running out of the house to celebrate the first snow of the year.

But your mind wasn’t there. Your mind was on Jiho’s whereabout that has been unknown the entire day. His phone had been dead and what you felt was a burgeoning worry nesting inside you.

You weren’t sure of anything. About what the two of you were, how he felt about you and how significance was your presence in his life. And in times like this, when he worried the shit out of you, you’d hoped a sense of clarity was the least you could have. You hoped you could at least call Park Kyung and said, _this is me, are you with Jiho? –_ and having Park Kyung thinking, _oh it is Jiho’s girlfriend_ , on the opposite line would be enough

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t sure of who you were.

You’d been roaming the streets of his neighborhood for the past two hours. The two of you had made planned to get a Ddokbokki together in nearby stall and to have a night in his apartment. But he never showed up. You rang his apartment’s bell but the neighbor said he saw Jiho walking outside just couple of minutes ago. His car was parked safely in the lane, but Jiho was nowhere to find.

You were determined to find Jiho. To rescue him from whatever issue he was in.

He’d been like this. After criticism arose due to his performance on Show Me The Money 6, he’d been quite and at worst, flighty. Phone calls were left ringing, and messages unread. You know he had blamed himself for not taking the extra measure, for ‘thinking everything would be okay by now’. He still thought that the poor reception of his performance with Dean as judges was the accumulative hatred the audience had for him, ranging from the Thailand issue to the matter with Kim Seolhyun.

Jiho was receptive to constructive criticism, but he often forgot that what it did was deconstructing his esteem.

And so there were you, a mere newcomer to his life, trying to sort the puzzle out.

Suddenly your ears picked a harmonious tune swirling away from an alley that separates two brick-block building. There was no light in the alley, but your gut instinct brought you there nonetheless.

And there Jiho was. Basking in the darkness of the alley and the blissful white of the snow falling all over him. He was sitting on some used crates, with his head held down. The tune, which happened to be a group of Cello players practicing from the second floor of the building, was delicate. As much as _he_ was.

“Jiho..”

He tilted his head, throwing a faint smile at you. But still you knew that he had been crying.

“There you are. I’m okay. Are you worried?” In a stale effort, he tried to widen his smile that drew your whole being into an embarrassing fluster. But most important than anything at all, you were glad you’d found him.

“I am. What are you doing?”

“Sit here, [listen](https://open.spotify.com/track/17i5jLpzndlQhbS4SrTd0B?si=PL-ORBdgTJ60NIu9WQH_gQ)..” He prepared another crate next to him, reaching out for your hands to hold, and led you to sit next to him. The two of you were listening to the Cello group playing the tune halfway, at a certain part Jiho seemed to light up, his eyes were sparking with an excitement. And in silent, you enjoyed that with your hands in his grip.

“They made it.”

“Made what?”

“They’ve been practicing, and they have been screwing that last part over and over again. But finally, they made it through.” He smiled and tighten his grip on your hands, “Luckily, you got to witness sthat.”

You smiled, could not hide away your concern, “How long have you been here? Why are you here?”

“Long enough to share the frustration with them,” he cackled, trying hard to mask the bitterness in his words, “I want you to find me. Like I found you.”

With his left hand holding your right hands, he landed his cold naked fingers on your cheek. Caressing all that was left of your emotion, and slowly he pulled you in closer. You stared down at his lips and for a while, hesitating. But he moved her thumb to land on your lips, “I want to have you.” He murmured, breaking down all your shield as he started kissing you even deeper than you ever had.

Suddenly, it wasn’t so cold anymore.

“You are so brave and quiet, I forget you are suffering.”*

“We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.”** 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * : (Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms, 1929)  
> ** : This is the most often misquoted phrases. It's a combination of Leonard Cohen's "Anthem" and an excerpt of a paragraph from Ernest Hemingway's A Farewell To Arms. Nonetheless, I love how it sounds put together. 
> 
> Tune playing on Cello is: https://open.spotify.com/track/17i5jLpzndlQhbS4SrTd0B?si=PL-ORBdgTJ60NIu9WQH_gQ


	4. He Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your relationship with Jiho was tarnished, but Song Mino was another warmth that you secretly never regret having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear all readers,
> 
> First of all, I'm sorry that i's taking forever to come up with a new chapter. To be honest, I've been working on my other fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14010816) more lately these days, please do check 'em out if you like DEAN! Second, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! You guys don't know how much giddy I become everytime I receive notification saying that someone has left a kudo or comment. Honestly, I wrote this just out of boredom, but now I really want to entertain you guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I have been thinking, i think I will accept any request from you guys, if you have any band you want me to write oneshot about, I'd be down for it. Just brief me with a prompt, and just message me!
> 
> Anyway, as you know, this story is using a non-linear narrative. So the timeline might go back and forth, but I've been trying to make it as clear as possible. This chapter in particular, goes all through the past, just to get a back understanding of what's happening. Hopefully you will enjoy it.
> 
> Please don't forget to leave kudos or comments! I would love to hear from you!

 

              The IV drops weren’t loud. Your head was just too vacant to process other sound, no matter of the fact that the nurses were rushing in and out of the ward, and a horde of mourning people followed suit. The man tended next to your bed had just died, and you thought, _how funny – just how simple life is. You live and you die, and there was nothing in-between._

              Couple of minutes ago, the man came into the ER with wheelchair. He was still able to speak clearly, calmly explained the stinging pain on his chest. The next few minutes, he went unconscious, the nurses hastily closed off all the curtains separating you and him, and even without you seeing what was happening, you could tell that the doctors desperately plugged all means to save him.

              But the next minute you knew, they all went quiet, and one of the doctors had murmured, “Note the time.”

              And after that, you tried to silence all kinds of desperation and despair. And the droplets of IV was the only thing you wanted to hear.

              You could not remember anything. It must have been a panic attack, you felt that frequently lately. Especially since the day you were brought to your sense, of what you were doing.

Your hands were dirty, but the mask you wore in front of him was immaculate. You’d come home with the taste of Mino still lingered in your mouth, but then you kissed Jiho a goodnight sleep. You’d bare it all in front of Mino, but then you wrapped your flesh underneath the blanket, and childishly complained to Jiho, _I’m cold_. And into his embrace, he’d draw your innocent facade suited in pajamas. He’d sigh, “Not so cold anymore, uh?” To which you’d cackle.

              The thought of who you were becoming made you sick. And the pain grew rapidly to your chest, it made it hard to breathe. But you knew it became momentous when Jiho had your throat in his grip, and you lost consciousness. You woke up in an ER ward, and you had nobody with you. The nurses peaked through the curtains and called the doctor to tend you. He said that you’d been dehydrated and you needed an IV injection.

              You thought that face would appear just any moment. That moon-faced smile, the grin that has an uncanny resemblance to his brother. You thought everything would go back to normal with him saying, “Hey, mine. Miss me already?” Like he always did, and like you always did too, answering jokingly, _I’m so tired of seeing your face._ But he’d always kissed you afterwards nonetheless, and no, you never had enough of that kiss. In all truth.

              But he never came, when the doctor declared you fit enough to be discharged, you’d only find that the bills had been paid under Jiho’s credit card. But no matter how many hours you waited at the waiting room, there was nobody to pick you up and bring you back home. And when you opened your phone, you had discovered that all trace of Jiho was gone from your phone. All those selfies the two of you had taken together, the videos of his birthday, celebration of his awards, and even your chats with him, alongside his number from your phonebook. It all as if he never occurred. It all as if the past years with him had been erased without your consent.

              So you went home, trying hard to muster all stoicism that was left in your vein on your way home. The taxi pulled over in front of your apartment building. You went in, and you passed by your neighbor. She looked surprised, saying, “Oh. I thought you moved out?” And then she started to notice the pathetic pieces of your leftover painted on your pale soulless face, “Are you okay?”

              “What you mean I’m moving out?”

              “Because I saw Jiho-ssi taking—” and she finally came to her sense, “—oh never mind. Have a good day.”

              And just like that, your neighbor walked away, after effortlessly planting a hard growing anxiety in your chest. When you slid the key open to your apartment, your fear turned real. The moment you saw Jiho prized wooden stool had gone, you knew he had left. And what you meant by that, is that all trace of him had been completely wiped off. His studio room was now just an empty space with studded of leftover wires all over the sides. The room the two of you used to spend so many nights together with, was now a silent display of your defeat. The decorative vinyl on the wall had gone, leaving the nails bare on the wall. His side of the drawer was empty, and so was his personal walk-in closet.

              You could not even remember all the beautiful things that had happened in this place, because all the remembrance of it had gone. The only thing that could remind you of what happened is the pieces of broken chair and the destruction of the TV set, left untouched. As if Jiho had staged all the components to deliberately have you notified that you had been reduced as nothing more than the reason for all this mess. That you had been nothing more than just the slut who slept with his best friend.

***

              “You know what, Noona?” Jaehyo’s droopy eyes were clouded by the alcohol that by that time must have tangled his brain, explaining his slurry words, “You are so lucky.”

              You couldn’t maintain your laughter simply because the statement came out of nowhere. Around that time, Block B just had their comeback stage after quiet a while. You know they have missed having quality time with each other, so you initiated a get-together between Jiho and the members. You made the entire plan of renting a lavish Airbnb in Jeonju during the cherry blossom week that year, and you had told Jiho to insist that all members should come, and that they needed to spend the entire weekend together. You couldn’t tell whether it was a success or not as all they did were lazing off around and jokingly insulting each other instead of going for an outdoorsy activity as what you had thought. But they seemed to enjoy it and that calmed you down a bit.

              It had been couple of months since Jiho had introduced you formally to the group. It was nerve-wrecking to say the least. You had been very anxious whenever Jiho asked you to hang around while he was with the members. At first, you felt as if you were nothing more than just a tongue-tied gushing stranger, although they had been very welcoming. Park Kyung teased you on the first encounter, “Excuse me, Noona. Did you hit your head while you were baby?” You were taken aback for awhile, asking what he meant. The members then laughed as Park Kyung answered, “How come you date this idiot?”

              And then they all laughed with you. Ever since, they had been more than just your boyfriend’s co-workers. You felt as if you belonged.

              “What do you mean?” You asked Jaehyo who was now too drunk to hold his head up, so he nuzzled his head to Jihoon’s lap to his dismay, “Ah, ah, ah hyung! It’s ticklish.”

              You laughed along, all the while throwing your glance to the kitchen, where Jiho was. He insisted to showcase his cocktail-mixing style, and to serve everyone there his new recipe that he had learned from 2PM members. And now he’s struggling with his own mixing.

It was all in good fun, but you were anticipating Jaehyo’s answer.

              “Jaehyo-ya, why am I lucky?” You tried to keep your smile latched to make your question sounded as casual as possible. But you couldn’t help it, you were dead curious and you needed to get the answer before Jiho comes back.

              “Uhm..” His mind wandered off somewhere, _must be the alcohol_ , you thought considering the whiskey he had chugged earlier, “Well.. You’re the first girl he brought to us. And uhm.. He talks a lot about you. It’s annoying, really.”

              You couldn’t help but to burst out in another laughter, noticing the similar pain you had to endure, “I swear, he talks about you guys a lot, too! It’s annoying!” So both of you laughed, with the addition of Jihoon mumbling with his pitch deep voice, “Who does he talk a lot the most?”

              You thought for awhile and said that Jiho definitely talked about Taeil the most, and Park Kyung the least. Apparently the fun was resonated to the kitchen, where Park Kyung complained to the man next to him, “Ya! You don’t talk about me _at all_?”

              The other members played adding fuel to the fire, _he hates you! It’s no secret that Jiho despises Kyung.._ To which Jiho only stood helplessly and surrendered in defeat, “It’s just that I’m so sick of seeing your face since we were in elementary..”

              Another outbreak of laughter. And you remembered feeling so cherished like you never had before. Surrounded by the comfort of people who your man treasured so dearly.

              When Jiho finally finished with the drinks, he headed to the living room where all of you were. All the while Jaehyeo nudged your side upon his arrival, “Ya, Noona.”

              “Hm?”

              In a slurry mumble and a desperate effort to keep it from Jiho’s hearing, he said, “You’re lucky,” he caught glance from Jiho and quickly disguised his following words in a fake cough, “because I’ve never seen him loved a girl this much.”

***

              The next following days were just some empty hollows that you had not been able to fill with any meaning. You woke up feeling anguished and the tears never ceased to dry. You’d shamble to the living room, trying to fix the mess that was left behind untouched. Probably the only mess you could clean up. But then you’d stop halfway, just to break down and waiting any moment that front door would swing open and Jiho would stand there.

              You missed that day, when he’d arrive home giggling, after he bought you a golden fish in a tiny water tank that he had held too carefully along the way. He said, it was a surprise present. When you asked, for what? He shyly admitted, “For being so beautiful today.”

              That mischievous grin and good intentions, welcoming you back home, to the warmth that you’ve missed so dearly.

              But no matter how many days you starved yourself and wailed over your guilts, the apartment would mock you in silent. Often you flinched when heavy footsteps passed through your door, as you anticipated Jiho to return. But then those footsteps would march away.

There was another day when a knock on your door woke you up with anxiety budding in your chest. You didn’t dare to see through the peephole, with breath hanging loosely at the edge of your throat you were swept with disappointment as it happened to be the electricity guy, wondering whether your circuit was okay for periodical check. You let him in, and while he was working on your power panel, you sat in the couch, staring blankly at the entrance where Jiho used to put his wooden stool, and you thought to yourself: There is nothing else you could do.

There needed no explanation that everything was over between you and Jiho. You were aware of that, but it stung you think that you never were given a single chance to say the things you had been dying to word out: _I love you and I am sorry._

So you worded out the sentence in silence and to the empty air.

When the electrician finished checking out the panel, you asked politely if he had any spare time to check out what was wrong with your TV. It had been dropped from the set, there were no cracks, but you couldn’t tune it anything.

The electrician guy was very expressive, and within a single glance, you could notice how he was taken aback realizing how awful you looked. Pale with no hue of warmth left inside. Perhaps it was out of pity, but he started checking your TV immediately. He plugged the wires here and there, and not long after the TV went on. You tried to give him extra money, but he was adamant that it was just a small thing to do.

It was only a small thing, but it lit up your apartment as if somebody was actually living there.

That night, you slept on the couch and in front of the TV. Because loneliness started to nest within you, and you were worried.

***

She had been crying. He could tell from the puffy eyes and the tint of red sprawled underneath her eyes. She landed her fingertips on her temple, and while taking refuge from strangers’ eyes, she let a teardrop fell underneath the dim light of the bar.

Mino let himself got carried away, as if her despair was fluorescent. Taehyun was talking over a pint glass of tequila shots, but Mino wasn’t listening, until a nudge on his sides bring him back to the scene.

“Ya, hyung, weren’t you listening?” Taehyun looked annoyed for a couple of seconds over his ignorance, until his sight landed on what had caught Mino’s attention, “Isn’t that.. What is she..”

She was alone, sitting in the barstool area unaccompanied. Seats next to her were empty as well, as it was only Monday at the beginning of January. The work for many people hadn’t been too harsh to lead them to the bar, so it was strange to see her looking down in her luck, basking in her blatant display of loneliness, when she should have had a fine man by his side.

“Where is Zico?” murmured Taehyun, leaning back to the couch as the girls mingling with them offered Taehyun more shots, to which he gladly took, “Did he dump her?”

One of the girls offered Mino more shots, but he was so tired of those faceless girls. Seeing him like a full course meal, and after a kiss or two they would share their prized experience to their friends and colleagues, selling Mino’s name like a lifeless commodity. For so many years, he had dreamed of such height in popularity like he had now, but oddly the sadness in her eyes was the only thing he could relate to at this moment. And it felt strange.

“Do you know her?”

Mino hesitantly answered, “Jiho introduced me once, I should greet her.”

“Hyung, what the fuck? Mind your own business. Enjoy what we’re having here.” Taehyun was referring to the girls, but Mino couldn’t care less. He stood up and to his surprise, at the same time she lifted her head and coincidentally their eyes met.

In an apparent surprise, she hastily tried to get up and bowed to Mino, but once her foot landed on the ground it was clear that her balance was distorted by the alcohol she had been taking. Mino was quick to catch her faltering stance before she hit the ground, but once Mino had her in his hold, she let go of all her weight on his chest.

And he could feel tears streamed, dampening his shirt in suddenly, while a restrained and shaky mumble repeated, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t call Jiho. Please no. He can’t see me like this.”

At that moment, he noticed that eyes were starting to dart on them. Some whispers, ironically loudly, _isn’t that Song Mino from Winner?_ And then they would shift their glance to the already wasted Nam Taehyun across the room, _are they making a scene?_ _Who’s that girl?_

Mino sighed trying to sort out the situation, but she kept on mumbling, _please don’t call Jiho, please.._ And there was more than just a sadness in her voice, he hoped he was mistaken, but there was a subtle fear in her words. And without thinking, Mino pulled up the hood of his jacket, and led her out of the bar and into his car and drove away.

The two of them were in bleak silent for the first thirty minutes passing. She had been trying hard to muffle her sobbing, but it was hard when her whole chest was about to explode. Mino was quiet, but his sighed was heavy, because quietly he strangely shared what she felt, and the pain of knowledge burdened him so much. It became too heavy to bear that when the highway widened, he pulled over to the roadside.

 

You looked at Mino, and you remembered very clearly that it was your first time seeing his face in such a close proximity. Previously Jiho had introduced the two of you, but Song Mino never mattered, nor anybody else when Jiho was around. You’d always have your eyes on Jiho, and Jiho alone for he was a home to your glance.

But that night, you had just realized how fine the profile of his face was, and even in such an unfortunate moment, you felt like a kid crushing on a boy. You felt embarrassed by the feeling, because he had just rescued you from being a crumpled piece of mess at a local bar, and now the two of you were somewhere off a highway connecting Seoul and Incheon. From afar, you could see the Hangang river glistening under the moonlight, and Song Mino was staring at you.

You could still your heart throbbing out of the pain that Jiho had caused you, but at the same time, you could feel the childishness of the feeling you had by being stared by Song Mino, slightly remedying the wound your relationship with Jiho had inflicted.

“Where do you wanna go?” You never realized how deep his voice was, and it startled you a little. There was a voice inside you, whispering, you wish it was Jiho sitting next to you. On your usual late night cruise down the city, back when everything was okay.

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

And all the things that had just happened were brought back to your mind. You could feel that your tears had dried down, but the anxiety within you kept on throbbing and suffocation followed suit, “He’s—” You tried to answer, but all the hindsight visions came freshened up.

Jiho was in the bathroom taking a leak at 4 AM in the morning, his phone buzzing. You were awoken by the buzz. You yelled at him to pick that up, but he didn’t hear. So you casually slid off the password to his phone, and a message popped up. A nameless number.

It was a picture, of a woman. Down on her knees. Not a single cloth on her body. A hard-on was deep in her mouth. And there was a reflection in the mirror. The man behind the camera, the man whose package was in her mouth.

It was Jiho.

“—I wish I was blind.” And by that you crumbled in front of Song Mino. You broke down and cried like you never before, because you just had to, or else you’d die. But he was calm, and you could feel his hands touched the side of your face. His broad fingers stroke every tears that fell, and his eyes told you something.

“You knew.” The realization hit out of nowhere, “You knew.”

Song Mino’s eyes softened on you, and now both of his hands were on your face as more tears fell down your cheeks. You could tell that he was trying to compose an answer, perhaps an explanation behind his acknowledgment of Jiho’s affair, but he only said, “You don’t deserve this.”

And he pulled you in closely, landing his soft lips on yours. In all bareness of soul, you surrendered when his tongue brushed the entrance to your mouth. You let in as you lowered your back arch to the car’s doors as he crawled on to you.

“Song Mino-ssi.”

“Song Mino-ssi.”

“Song Mino-ssi?”

And he replied by wording out your name, while your breathe intertwined with each other. His hands roamed in slowly, as they were now in the insides of your garment, and you could feel your womanhood burned by his strokes.

“Song Mino-ssi,” You called his name again, desperately trying to bring your sense back. And he stopped, the two of you were silent for a moment.

“I love him so much.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

               

 

             

             

 


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